


Black and Blue

by Bioluminescent



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Campaign 2 (Critical Role), Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 22:13:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bioluminescent/pseuds/Bioluminescent
Summary: The Mighty Nein are ambushed at night, and they find out that one of their own has been keeping secrets from them again.





	Black and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm really excited about this one, especially since it's my first fic for critical role. I've only watched the second season so far (but not past ep 23), and I've really enjoyed everyone's characters. 
> 
> I listened purely to [Sixteen Shades of Black and Blue](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fkAd91-SNM0) for this.

They had not been expecting the attack in the middle of the night, but with Caleb’s frantic gasped warning as his silver thread alerted him to the intruders and Yasha’s shout, they manage to avoid the worst of the surprise attack on them.

Molly whirls around the camp, slicing through the ragtag team of bandits easily, catching a few glimpses of blue from the corner of his eye as Beau punches her way through a cluster of them in a blur. Roaring behind him warns him enough that he gets a quick slash down the side of one particularly nasty bandit as Yasha screams, her dark wings extending from her back, dripping shadows and malice as her eyes flash black and she swings her sword through a bandit in one clean swipe.

Blood arcing across the camp as the torso slides from the rest of the body, yelling draws his gaze to a heated struggle on the other side of camp. 

Jester and Fjord are shouting at each other as four bandits, including one with a nasty scar across his throat, all drag Caleb back from them as he struggles wildly against the hands on his coat, hair, anything they can get a hold of.

Nott is screaming in the background, something about not hitting Caleb, and Fjord yells back that they can heal Caleb when Molly flings out a hand, blood thundering in his ears at the sight of a curved dagger plunging down towards Caleb’s chest. The sting of pain on his neck is almost as euphoric as the sight of the bandit dropping his dagger and staggering back, eyes clouded with blood, as another lets go of Caleb to turn tail and run.

That one dies with a crossbow bolt through the back of the head, and the one he cursed falls in a sickening crunch under Jester’s floating lollipop.

Fjord rushes forward, blade materializing just as Caleb shouts out in fear or pain, his hand clenching against the shoulder of one of the remaining bandits, before a thunderous boom echoes in the clearing and against the mountains in the near distance. One of them is flung back with a sickening crack as he hits the ground, grunting in pain.

That bandit dies screaming under Nott and Yasha, before the rest of them turn to the remaining one holding Caleb against him.

“Now, why don’t we just talk about this?”

The surprisingly soft voice of the bandit holding one of theirs hostage echoes around the clearing, and they still. Caleb is gasping, eyes wide as he clutches at the arm around his waist, staying absolutely still as a sharp dagger rests against his throat.

At the edge of his hearing, Molly can hear Yasha faintly growling, her wings creaking as they shift upward, arching threateningly behind her.

“Why don’t you fuck off?”

Molly has to fight back a sigh at Beau’s aggressive tone as the bandit cocks his head before smiling.

“Fine then, I won’t be nice.” And Molly barely has a chance to take a step forward when the bandit whistles sharply and a wave of arrows falls upon them.

Molly loses track of Caleb in the next few minutes, but the sputters of fire amongst the general chaos of battle reassures him that he still lives.

The last falls under a deft swipe of Fjord’s blade, and Molly watches as Jester quickly heals Yasha, soft light emanating from her hands as she runs them over the many arrows littering across Yasha’s shoulders.

A shout just out of the clearing pushes them all back into action, and they bolt in that direction just as they see two figures illuminated by a burst of fire so hot it burns white against Molly’s eyelids when he closes them. When he opens them, he watches as a figure slumps to the ground with a hole burnt clear through it, glowing softly with the remaining heat and the scent of burnt flesh begins to fill the air around them.

Fjord steps up first, approaching Caleb and kicking the corpse out of the way as he glances past the tree into the woods. “It looks clear now, we must have gotten them all.”

Caleb sags against the rough bark behind him, gasping for breath as his hands shake slightly, either with adrenaline or fear, but no one even thinks of mentioning it. Molly slowly takes note of all the little scratches littering Caleb’s hands and the leather of his coat, and is relieved to find little blood coming from them.

The stiffness in Caleb’s body as he sits against the base of the tree is worrying however, when he shifts and winces, hands stuttering before settling at clenching the lapels of his coat. Even more disheveled than usual from the fight, the edges of Caleb’s collar reveal too sharp collarbones and a hint of something just off in the darkness.

Molly frowns.

“Are you alright, Caleb?”

Fjord’s soft drawl pulls Caleb’s attention from the charred body to the side of him, but he looks up and nods hesitantly. Clearly trying to hide the flinch, Caleb jerks his chin back down like usual, but he did not hide it well enough as Nott and Beau come rushing over from looting the bodies.

The dim flicker of the firelight wasn’t enough for them to notice at first, but when Beau walks over with a torch in her hand, the shadows circling Caleb’s neck twist and darken into a necklace of deep purples and tinges of sick yellows. Blood trickles slowly from a cut on the front of his throat, and Molly darkly wishes that Caleb had not killed the man so swiftly.

“Caleb! What happened to you!” At Nott’s shriek, Caleb frowns and when Jester gasps and puts a hand to her throat in sympathy and rage, the color drains from his face and he scrabbles at his coat and scarf.

“Ah, it is nothing, just,” Caleb rasps, rubbing gently at his throat and wincing, and Molly meets Fjord’s suspicious gaze over his head. “They got their hands on me during our struggle, it’s nothing Nott, really.”

Nott relaxes slightly at that, her features still tight, mirroring the pain written clearly across Caleb’s face as he settles his clothes about himself again, one hand resting across his throat, as if to shield it from them all. When Jester approaches with her hands outstretched, chittering away about not having any slots left but she might be able to heal him, Molly immediately notices the way Caleb’s eyes dart to her and the way he begins to curl in on himself.

He holds out an arm. “I wouldn’t do that just yet Jester darling.” At her affronted look and Nott’s shrill shriek, he shrugs and nods to Fjord. “I know I’m not the only one who wants to know the truth right now.”

Fjord nods his head. “Yeah.” He crouches down far enough away from Caleb that he is not in direct reach and ducks his head to try and make eye contact with Caleb after he had ducked his head into his chest. “Caleb?”

A shudder runs through his body and his knees curl up to his chest, feet crossing and arms tightening around his chest, bright hair just visible from his tight ball in the light.

Sighing, Fjord scratches at the back of his neck when there is no further response. “C’mon Caleb, we just want to make sure you’re alright, and we can’t do that if you won’t talk to us.”

A soft meow breaks the silence and they all jump, but there is no hint of blue in Frumpkin’s eyes as he nudges up against Nott. She picks him up and edges closer to Caleb.

“Caleb?” Frumpkin’s eyes flash blue for just a moment before reverting to their normal non magical coloring. “Caleb is it alright if I come closer?”

Molly almost does not hear it with how soft it is even in the quiet night, but the raspy _ja_ is unmistakable.

They all watch as Nott walks up to Caleb, letting her feet fall louder than normal before she settles Frumpkin down next to him. She gently puts a hand on his shoulder, waiting after he tenses even further to slowly relax under her hand enough that he can turn his head to look at her with one eye.

“Caleb, where are you hurt?”

Beau is quiet next to Molly as Caleb sighs wearily, sagging at the question before peeling one arm from his body and motioning with it.

The number of areas is distressing, to say the least.

A flick towards the throat, two taps against the biceps, and two more for the wrists and shoulders. One shaky motion to the hip and thigh before Caleb bites his lip hard enough to bleed.

Nott tuts quietly, crouching next to Caleb as Jester frantically folds her hands together. Molly reaches over and takes one of them in his own, squeezing tightly. Their clasped hands shake.

“You know you’re safe with us Caleb. We would never hurt you.” Caleb tucks his head back into his knees, shuddering violently enough that it must aggravate his injuries because he hisses in pain. 

Beau steps forward, silently flicking a hand at Fjord to move away and she takes his place. “You know that, Caleb.” She shifts forward, gently resting a slightly bloody hand on a bony ankle. “Tell us so we can take care of you.”

When Caleb uncurls enough to gesture generally at his chest and ribs, Molly jabs an elbow into Yasha and her soft growl cuts off. She ignores his look and continues to watch the forest around them, one of her wings settling protectively around his shoulders and he smiles at the cold weight.

Beau and Nott manage to convince Caleb to sit without being curled up, and Nott nudges up his sleeves to get a better look at the bruising on his wrists as Beau receives permission to gently touch the darker bruises on his throat. She pulls the collar of his coat and shirt out of the way, his scarf slung over her own shoulders when she stills. Molly watches as Nott traces the dark outlines on Caleb’s thin wrists.

“Caleb.” Beau’s voice is surprisingly gentle with the undercurrent of violence shimmering just under the surface. “Where did you get these.”

He tries to duck his head, but Beau keeps a few fingers under his chin to keep his head up, and one of his hands lifts from where Nott was inspecting them to wrap around Beau’s wrist. “Beauregard.”

Molly watches Fjord wince at the roughness of Caleb’s voice, and Jester begins to bounce in distress next to him.

Beau leans in, tilting her head. “Don’t, Caleb. Just don’t.” Her other hand presses around and she frowns harder when he flinches. “You are going to tell us where you got these and why you didn’t tell us, because I want to kill whoever gave them to you.”

Freezing as Nott shifts enough for them to catch a glimpse of the clear finger shaped bruises circling Caleb’s wrists, Jester goes impossibly still next to Molly. When he turns to her, her lips are pressed together hard enough to turn pale blue, and her nostrils flare as she stares at the markings. Fjord shifts out of view and he can hear rustling though one of their packs before he returns with a healers kit.

Caleb closes his eyes as Beau begins to poke at his chest through his shirt, Nott holding his other hand between her own, tears pooling silently in her eyes. He opens them and meets Molly’s gaze over Beau’s shoulder.

“Yes do tell us, Mr. Caleb. I want a little adventure right about now.”

The small huff of a laugh he gets in response is sweeter than any wine, and he squeezes Jester’s hand.

And haltingly, as Beau and Nott begin to smear healing salve on the bruises they can get to without stripping him, Caleb tells them.

“It was when I had left to take my walk the night before we left town to get some more supplies when I was taken by surprise. It wasn’t really, uh, anything too bad really, the man must have been searching for money, and when he didn’t find that much on me, he got, um, frustrated.” Molly can see a muscle twitching in Beau’s temple as she clearly grinds her teeth. “So that, that is how I got dinged up.”

Breaking in before Nott can speak, Molly squeezes Jesters hand again. “That isn’t really the point here, Caleb.”

Brows beetled, Caleb looks at him. “Then what is the point?”

Fjord pipes up, looking more in control of himself, but concern still floats around the corners of his eyes. “The point is, Caleb, is that you didn’t mention anything of the sort to us when you got back. We thought everything was fine and when Jester asked about your limp you said you tripped.”

“You lied to me! You said you were fine, but you lied!”

Caleb blinks at Jester’s outburst. “Jester -”

“No!” She steps forwards and points at him, finger shaking. “You need to tell us when you get hurt so we can heal you, because you’re the squishiest and you can’t die!”

Caleb begins to retort before flinching violently. “Scheiße!”

They all go quiet as Beau swears at Caleb and shoves his shirt up, Nott hissing even as she slathers the salve over the expansive swath of bruises along Caleb’s ribs, the deep blacks and blues even more distressing against his pale skin, the contrast horrible in the flickering light of the torch.

Molly can tell the moment the rest of them realise that the bruise in the middle of Caleb’s chest is in the shape of a boot print, because he is almost certain that the surrounding temperature actually drops.

Voice tense, Fjord grinds out, “I think what Jester was trying to say is that you need to trust us if you get hurt, Caleb. Because what if you had gotten badly enough injured that you couldn’t get back to the inn? What if you had died because of this and none of us knew why?”

Blinking bewildered at them all, Caleb lets his head tilt back and rest against the tree behind him, closing his eyes as a few tears manage to slip out. “I don’t know.”

Frumpkin delicately steps up onto his lap and curls up, purring, effectively pinning him in that spot until Nott and Beau are done harassing him. The rest of them keep watch, glaring out into the dark woods around them as if to dare any creature to even try to test their mettle this instance.

Caleb draws the line at them helping him with the bruises on his legs, shooing them away with Frumpkin clutched in Nott’s arms.

The rest of the group hovers around him as he wobbles to his feet before Molly rolls his eyes and shoves them away until only he and Caleb are left.

Blinking at him, Caleb watches as Molly approaches.

“You really shouldn’t do that, Caleb.”

A small dip of the chin is all he gets as Caleb looks at his left shoulder. “Mmm, ja.”

Molly chuckles. “Now then.” He plucks the jar of salve from Caleb’s hand. “This does it’s job better out of the jar.”

Slowly, Caleb’s cheeks turn pink and he glances up at Molly through the hair that has fallen into his face. “I can do that myself thank you.”

He hums, hands over the jar, and settles against the tree with his back to Caleb, turning his head just enough to be heard easier. “Perhaps. But we need to make sure that this doesn’t happen again, alright?”

There is no answer, just as he had expected, but Molly can hear the hiss of cloth against skin and a small gasp or two from Caleb as he smooths the salve over his skin. Before long, there is a soft touch at his elbow and he turns.

They rejoin the rest of the group, Yasha looming in the darkness, her sword laid across her lap with Beauregard next to her as they take the next watch. Beau watches as Caleb settles down in his bedroll. He frowns at how it has been clearly moved into the center of the camp but says nothing, Nott curling up next to him as he settles, Frumpkin purring as he shoves his way into Caleb’s arms.

Molly watches until he is satisfied before going to his own bedroll, a few feet away from Caleb’s head.

Just as sleep is about to take him, Molly catches the soft words directed at him and smiles.

“Thank you, Mollymauk.”


End file.
